Captive by Love
by Larkawolfgirl
Summary: Homura isn't complaining—there is a mysterious pleasure to the situation, in seeing the girl squirm, tears and cries with every touch—yet, Homura longs deeply, under her more dominant layers, to see her smile at her again—heaven forbid, to love her back. To touch her back. But Homura has long since given up such fantasy, too darkened now to ever return.


**AN:** If it isn't clear enough, this takes place post-rebellion with akuma Homura having held the part of Madoka she yanked out of Godoka captive in her room.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own PMMM or its characters. Though, I wish I owned Homura, I really do.

Homura enters the bedroom, eyes roaming the pink-haired girl on her bed. A muffled sound escapes the girl, but Homura ignores it momentarily, first shedding her camouflage school uniform for her better-suited, akuma gown, loving the way it clings to her body in ways she wishes the girl would.

She reaches to remove the gag from her, but pauses for a second, studying the tiny tears settled permanently in her eyes. Homura isn't complaining—there is a mysterious pleasure to the situation, in seeing the girl squirm, tears and cries with every touch—yet, Homura longs deeply, under her more dominant layers, to see her smile at her again—heaven forbid, to love her back. To _touch_ her back. But Homura has long since given up such fantasy, too darkened now to ever return.

So, instead she removes the gag only to replace it with her own insistent mouth, which delves in hungrily, tasting every inch of her warm sweetness—the sweetness she herself lost so long ago. There is a slight stretching sound as the girl struggles slightly against her padded cuffs, and a small smile touches Homura's lips.

"Shh," she whispers soothingly as she pulls her lips away, happily watching as a strand of saliva attempts to follow her before breaking. The girl gives her pleading eyes, and Homura knows she really does want to speak. The akuma sighs, brushing her long black hair back in an offhand gesture. "Alright, Madoka, go ahead."

Madoka opens her mouth, but no sound comes right away. She looks similar to a frightened rabbit. "Homura-chan." She trails off which is fine, because it gives Homura time to drink in her voice. "How long are you planning to keep me like this?"

Her hand trails under the pink-haired girl's dress and over her thigh, mostly because she can, but also to make the point that she can. "Forever of course," she says in an all-too-sweet voice. She sees Madoka cringe, and it brings a bad taste to her mouth. "Why? Do you dislike being with me?"

"No, but Homura-chan, there are things I need to do."

"No!" Her reply is immediate and harsh. "There is nothing that you need to be doing. You have done more than enough already."

Madoka's eyes tighten. "I don't know what you are talking about."

"And that is how it should be." Homura kisses her again, both in desperation and as a means of ceasing the pointless discussion. The goddess-on-earth's muffles soon turn into pants as the akuma's other hand joins the first in messaging her thighs. She pushes the dress up revealing the girl's pussy. Returning her hands to her thighs, she spreads them apart, lowering her face to her folds. Her tongue darts out rolling lightly over her clit before sucking on it gingerly.

Gentle. She is always gentle.

Madoka shivers beneath her. She moans low in the back of her throat as her tongue moves to her opening, running slowly along each tiny grove along her folds. She does this a few times before pushing in at the base of her opening, loving the tiny noise Madoka makes at the sensation. Then she set in for the main course, pushing into her core with increasing pressure. Thighs quiver in her hold with each swirl of her tongue.

Sweetness envelops Homura, and she moans herself. She would never have enough of Madoka, of her sweetness, which is her essence. The sweetness that she loves so much, yet hates for its selflessness. This liquid sweetness is probably her favorite, though, because it flows through her, a part of Madoka she can claim to keep. It is also a part of her no one else has known, and that very fact fills her with an egotistical joy each time she swallows these lovely meals.

Madoka has never said she enjoys this, but Homura knows, knows in her very soul. She knows that her little sighs and quivers are more than mere bodily, sense-driven reaction, but real desire.

Homura moves a hand lower, pressing against her clit with her thumb. Madoka cries out in pleasure, and the akuma smiles against her. She begins to push her tongue in and out, little jabbing motions that send Madoka into a heaving mess. Homura longs to see her face as she cums, but there is time for that later. This, this is what she knows Madoka loves the most.

And this is about Madoka. It is always about Madoka.

She kneads the flesh of her leg in her hand, willing her to cum silently since her mouth is preoccupied. Madoka seems to understand, because she pushes her thighs in around her tightly. For the briefest of seconds Homura wonders if she'd mind if she were to be taken in completely, to become one entirely with Madoka, unable to be separated ever again.

The answer is no, she wouldn't mind.

The girl cums, walls constricting around her tongue, arms straining against her restraints, cry resounding throughout the room. Homura pats the thigh she still holds affectionately as she licks up the cream of her sweetness, reveling in the aftertaste it leaves on her tongue.

She pulls back, watching as the pink dusting of color drains from the girl's cheeks, as she breathes heavy sighs until returning to an even pace. Homura studies her face, seeing disappointment evident in her eyes. The girl stares silently back, apparently waiting for permission to speak. "What, Madoka?" Homura covers her annoyance with a sugary coating.

"Homura-chan, please remove the restraints."

Homura glares openly now. "I already told you there is nothing you need to do."

"But there is, Homura-chan." Her eyes are more pleading than Homura can remember seeing them.

It's always about Madoka, she reminds herself. "I will remove the cuffs, but know that if you try escaping without my permission, I will never remove them again."

"I understand." The girl's expression remains the same as Homura undoes the cuffs. Homura prepares herself for the girl to scramble away from her, to flee toward the door, to possibly even smack her, but instead the girl's arms encircle her neck and her face buries itself into her hair.

"Oh, Homura-chan. I've wanted to hold you so badly."

Homura is unable to move, unable to think. This had never occurred to her. The other Madoka had seemed content in leaving her. Shakily, she brings her arms to Madoka's back, bringing her tighter to her chest. "I, thought you had things you needed to do?" Her voice resembles that of old, her insecure tone from her first timeline.

"Yes. I needed to hug you." Madoka squeezes her arms tighter. "I needed to kiss you." Madoka pecked her lightly on the lips. "I needed to love you." Madoka brought her hand down to stroke against her panties.

Homura groaned before flinching. "No, Madoka." The goddess-on-earth looked at her questioningly. "You shouldn't. I'm darker than you know."

"That doesn't matter, Homura-chan. I still love you no matter what you do. All this time you've never…Let me pay you back." She grinds her fingers against her opening, and Homura shivers knowing that she can already feel the wetness on her panties.

She pushes her down hovering above her like the goddess she truly is. A pure smile rests on her lips as her hand slides under the fabric running over her clit, into the film of liquid waiting for her, and then circling her fingers along her lips to slicken the path.

Homura resists the urge to shield her face. She feels so much more vulnerable than a minute ago. But this is Madoka. This is what Madoka wants. And it has always been about Madoka.

So, she resists the urge, gripping the white bed sheets in her hands to keep them busy. Her face contorts when fingers pinched at her clit with movements rougher than she's ever performed on the goddess. She meets Madoka's eyes finding a strange hungriness there. She groans again, louder this time, and Madoka closes her eyes with a sigh, apparently drinking Homura's voice in as the akuma had done not that long ago to hers.

A finger enters her, slowly at first, but then it pumps, in and out, up and down. It pushes against a spot inside her making a shout fly from her mouth.

Madoka's smile shifts to a smirk. "Found it." A second finger joins in. Homura's head falls back, breath shallowing to tiny bursts of airs. "Yes, Homura-chan, feel it. This is my love for you." Her other hand pinches her clit tightly, and Homura feels her muscling coiling. "Cum for me, Homura-chan."

It is too much, and Homura literally screams out as her dam brakes. She heaves in oxygen, watching as Madoka brings sticky fingers to her lips. The girl settles by her side, resting an arm over her chest. Homura knows that she shouldn't, but she feels so very tired, and she soon drifts off to sleep.

The first thing Homura realizes is that the bed is empty. There is no warmth, no arm upon her chest, no Madoka. She openes her eyes, sitting up quickly. A twisting knot forms in her chest at the sight before her. Madoka is there, a gentle expression on her face, but she is translucent, a rippling shimmer of bent light.

"You promised." Her voice feels painful as it slinks up her throat.

"No. I said that I understood. Still think you can cuff me, Homura-chan?"

A wretched sob overtakes Homura, and she covers her mouth with a hand in an attempt to quiet it. "Why? After what you did…"

Her voice is like a sparkling rainbow, but it does nothing to loosen the knot in her chest. "None of it was a lie. I do love you, but I do have things that I must be doing. I must play my part as Goddess."

"But you were! Couldn't you have left me just that one part? Weren't you happy too?"

Now she sounds as if she were talking down to a child, and it makes Homura feel sick. "It's not that simple. It takes power to hold back the witches. Your very existence now drains on my power. It just can't be."

"But I need you. I _need_ you. You're all I have lived for, all I have left!"

Madoka's frowns in sympathy. "I offered to let you join me. You were the one who turned it down. The offer still stands."

Homura sees no other options left. She can either stay here, a pitiful devil living eternally alone, or forego her earthly existence for one with the one she loved. There is no question. Internally, she berates herself for her stupidity of the past. She has disappointed Madoka, that is clear, and she gained nothing for it. If she had just made this decision in the first place then she would never had had to see her this way, this vile, selfish thing.

"Okay," she whispers, extending her hand. Madoka's joins hers, and from her fingertips spreads a golden light that eats the akuma's body away, leaving an untainted, translucent form in its wake.

Madoka envelops her in an embrace—or as much of an embrace as can be had by incorporeal beings. It feels the same, yet different. It is warm, like a mother's arms to an infant, but fleeting like a traveling breeze.

"Welcome home, Homura-chan." Her voice doesn't fill her ears but her entire self, stretching as if to eternity. The words feel right, righter than anything else has.

"I'm home," she says.

Madoka beamed, light shining forth into infinity.


End file.
